Foibles
by Alistair Ulven
Summary: "I just wanted to see you." -In which Draco is afraid to tell her how he feels, and Hermione says so much with so little. Non-HBP and DH compliant.
1. Part I

His eyes were pained.

This was something that seemed almost mystical to me back when I had first found out. There were a few things I'd associated with Draco Malfoy's eyes -steel, storm clouds, and ash- but never pain.

Yet, his eyes -those smoky grey depths-, they housed pain. It was usually never shown to anyone; always safely contained.

But there were times when his perfect mask would crack, and the pain would peek out over the apathy.

And the boy with the skin as pale as snow would break.

* * *

After his mother's passing, Draco refused to live in the manor anymore -he claimed it had too many ghosts, figuratively and literally. He now owned a small apartment outside of Muggle London, which he rarely ever inhabited because he'd gotten into the habit of paying me impromptu visits at my house, mostly in the dead of night.

Sometimes I found him in my living room after I woke up, sleeping fitfully on the old, patched-up sofa. His aristocratic features would more often than not be pinched into a frown, and strands of his usually gelled hair fell across his eyes. I would sweep the platinum locks away, and then cover him with a blanket.

He'd be gone by the time I get back from work, but once in a while, he would stay behind, and he'd conjure a bottle of champagne and pour us both a glass each.

He'd raise his glass to mine, and his lips would pull into a strained smile. If I asked him what we were toasting to, he'd only shake his head and whisper:

"Surviving, Granger, surviving."

* * *

I think the most accurate word to describe Draco's nightly visits would be 'strange'.

These visits had some kind of bizarre explanation, usually ranging from, "I found a rather unusual flavor of Bertie Bott's, thought you should try it" to "Granger, I forgot how to order a pizza again," or the extremely rare third explanation.

I would be lying if I said that my favorite out of those three asinine reasons wasn't the third one. He'd come up to me, and tuck a few stray strands of hair behind my ear before saying those magic words.

"I just wanted to see you."

I would also be lying if I said my heart didn't skip a beat at those words and I didn't get lost in those endless grey pools that were his eyes.

And then, for a fraction of a second, the walls would go down, and he would smile -he had a lopsided grin- and the pain in his eyes wouldn't seem so prominent.

But then, as if remembering that he was doing something he wasn't supposed to do, he'd step back and saunter to the sofa, stretching his long limbs over my cushions.

No words would be spoken again that night.


	2. Part II

**_Part II_**

Ron was never happy about Draco's visits, although both he and Harry claimed to have gotten past their old contempt for him, which lasted through the days of Hogwarts, until the final battle, when Draco helped the light.

He and Harry would see Draco in my house, poring over the Daily Prophet in just his drawstring pants, and Ron would purse his lips and nod curtly, a red vein popping out in his forehead, matching his hair.

Harry was more verbal about his disapproval, and once he asked me if I knew what I was getting into with Malfoy. I'd asked him what he meant by it, although I knew full well what he was talking about.

"I've seen the way you look at him. He's Malfoy, Hermione, nothing good is going to come out of... whatever this is," his green eyes were imploring, gleaming with what I recognized as concern. But it was wrongly placed.

I longed to tell him that he didn't who Draco really was -only the image of the sneering boy back at Hogwarts, and the former death eater. He didn't see the Draco that couldn't sleep at night because the nightmares were so bad, he woke up sweating. He didn't see the Draco that still visited his mother's grave with white lilies -her favorite, he told me once. He didn't see the Draco with the lopsided grin, and the far-away storm cloud colored eyes, that saw so much, and yet so little.

He didn't see the Draco who stopped by my sorry excuse of an apartment in the middle of the night just because he wanted to see me.

And I had a feeling that he never would - not him, and not Ron.

So I smiled, like Hermione always smiled, because that's the kind of person she was, and it seemed to calm Harry down a little, because the worried glint in his eyes died down just the tiniest bit.

Harry persisted.

"How do you know he's not going to hurt you, 'Mione?"

The smile didn't leave my face. I smiled at the boy who lived; my childhood friend, my brother.

"I don't, Harry, and that's the beauty of it."

I didn't think he'd ever understand that either.


	3. Part III

**_Part III_**

Sometimes, Draco didn't drop by for days on end, and it was hard to resist the urge to apparate up to his apartment and check on him. There were times when I nearly did so, but always stopped myself at the last minute. In the end, it wasn't my place; even after all this time, I didn't know where I stood with him.

This was one of those times. I haven't seen him in almost two weeks, and there were moments when I couldn't help but wonder whether he ever would come by again. With Draco, you could never tell. Many things he was, but predictable wasn't one of them.

I was glad for my books -they were the only thing that distracted me from his absence- but there were instances when I would read the same sentence about six times, and my mind would just keep drifting back to the same nagging thought; "Where was he?"

Maybe Harry was right. Maybe I really didn't know what I was getting into with Draco. What was our relationship? He spent more time at my place than he did at his, but what were we, exactly? He didn't speak much, and when he did, he revealed little.

What was I to Draco? Did I mean as much to him as he did to me? Or was I just someone convenient when he felt lonely? As much as I racked my brain for the answers to these questions, I didn't know them.

I didn't like not knowing.

* * *

My shift at Flourish &amp; Blotts ended at five, and I shrugged into my coat, heading out of the bookshop before deciding to apparate to my apartment, instead of walking like I usually would. I didn't really feel up to walking today.

The familiar feel of disorientation and faint nausea that came with apparating swallowed me up, and then as soon as it had come, it was gone. My apartment came into view, rather dingy and unimpressive, but the thought of changing into pajamas and curling up with a good book brought a smile to my lips.

I bounded up the steps, and fished my keys out of the pockets of my coat. I could have just used my wand to open the door, but old habits die hard. It was when I inserted my key into the lock that I discovered that the door was unlocked, which could either mean that a criminal/murderer was in there waiting for me, or Draco had decided to pay a visit. Suffice to say I hoped it was the latter.

My hand curling around the comforting weight of my wand, I stepped in, careful not to make much noise, lest there really was a criminal breaking into my apartment. My sneakers made no sound as I entered the den, which was exactly the way I'd left it; books strewn carelessly on the coffee table, and blankets dumped on the couch. Nothing amiss there.

Walking past the den, I poked my head into the kitchen, and resisted the urge to, instinctively lowering my wand hand.

Draco's back was turned to me, his blonde head bent over the counter. He was clad in everyday Muggle wear -a grey sweatshirt that I'm positive accentuated his eyes, and dark pants. A pot was cooking on the stove, and he seemed to be using his wand to stir whatever was in it.

A few other pans were scattered around the counter, and I could only assume that they were failed results of whatever he was trying to make.

Trying to stifle a giggle, I moved closer.

"Malfoy, are you...cooking?"

* * *

Yes, I've finally updated, I'm sorry it's been so long. I realize that this chapter is different than the last two, in terms of writing style, and I'm not very satisfied by it and while I feel that the earlier chapters were better, this was what I could come up with. Hopefully, the next chapter will be better. I thank Galaxie 500 for this chapter, their songs helped a lot with my writer's block. If you've listened to them, you're awesome.

-Alistair.


	4. Part IV

_**Part IV**_

Had he not thought to actually spare a glance my way before the incantation left his lips, Draco would probably have had me in a full body bind, or worse. In my own home. Which was frankly a bit ridiculous, considering that he was the one that broke into my house, not the other way around.

Granted, he lowered his wand as soon as he registered that it was me standing there, my own wand carelessly at my side, my eyes just a little wide.

"Damn it, Hermione," he cursed softly, setting aside his wand and leaning with his back to the kitchen counter. His grey eyes moved over my form swiftly, and I couldn't help the small smile that curled my lips as my given name rolled off his tongue. If we were back in Hogwarts, he would have called me mudblood, or some other derogatory term, and now he was in my kitchen. Funny how life worked, really.

"Did I scare you?" I tried my best to coat my tone with innocence, joining him at the counter. He raised a fair brow, and turned his attention to the pot simmering on the stove. "I could have hexed you, you know," he said matter-of-factly, brushing away a few stray strands of hair from his eyes.

Choosing to ignore his statement, I peered at the pots he had discarded; it was relatively easy to figure out that he'd been trying to make spaghetti, but it hadn't worked out in his favor. It made me wonder how he even survived on his own. Judging from the fact that his clothes hung a little more loosely than they had before, not very well.

"You've used too little water, so it boils before the noodles are cooked right," I offered some words of wisdom, trying to hide the smile that threatened to pull back my lips. He flushed a little, giving some color to his otherwise pale face, and relinquished the spoon to me.

"Why are you even cooking anyway? We both know you're terrible at it," by some miracle, the noodles that were cooking now were salvageable with the addition of some more water, and some salt.

The flush on his cheeks dimmed, and his gaze shifted to indifference, his beautiful eyes shutting off; they had done that so many times before, I've lost count.

"You weren't here, and I was hungry," he stated, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. I suppose it was, in a way. It was just so hard to know with Draco. He jerked you this way and that, until you had no idea where you stood. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Right, I'll take care of this, you can go watch the telly, or something," I took the spaghetti off the heat, strained it, and set about tempering the noodles. I could feel Draco's eyes boring holes into my shoulder from where he stood beside me, but he let out a barely audible sigh, and shuffled away into the den.

I wish I could say that it was easier to concentrate on the task at hand without his presence, but it was hard to ignore the fact that my earlier suspicions were true –I was barely anything more than someone convenient to him. Someone he could come to when in need, and just leave me alone after.

I cut up some garlic and drop it onto a frying pan, trying to focus on the faint sounds of the telly to distract me from my thoughts; they weren't going anywhere good.

I was halfway through adding a frying a few crisps of bacon and listening to a documentary about some chateau in France or other –what Draco wanted with that, Merlin only knew—when he padded back into the kitchen, shoes thumping lightly against my hardwood floors. I didn't turn to face him.

"It's not done yet-," I felt my mouth go dry and scratchy as lean arms encircled my waist, and Draco pulled me back so gently it almost hurt, my head resting back against his sweatshirt-clad chest. My breath hitched in my throat as his head came to rest at my shoulder, soft hair tickling the sensitive skin of my neck. The spatula fell out of my hands, and I considered telling him that the food would burn, but only his name would leave my lips.

"Draco?" It scared me that my voice was no more than a whisper. His arms tightened even more around my waist, just an edge away from being painful. If I were the main character of a romance novel, I would say that our bodies fit perfectly, and electricity coursed through my veins at his touch. But it wasn't like that. His touch was awkward, as if not used to this –and raw. It felt warm –safe.

Suffice to say that the bacon burned.

* * *

I actually had this written out at like two this morning, but didn't have access to Internet to post it. Oh well. Hope this wasn't too OOC. And please, I know this story gets hits so if you read this, and enjoy it, leave a review so I can know what you think of it.

-Alistair.


	5. Part V

**_Part V_**

I wanted the embrace to last longer, but Draco's arms slid off my waist when the smell of smoky smell of charring bacon was too hard to ignore. The absence of his touch made me feel empty, but I willed my hands to turn the stove off, setting aside the ruined food.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and it was one of those rare moments when his guard was down. Confusion, embarrassment, and something else I didn't dare put a name to flickered within the smoky depths.

The silence between us was suffocating, and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You didn't come by for quite a while," the words came out in a mumble. I thought maybe he hadn't heard me right; he took a while to answer.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, eyes pointedly looking anywhere but at me.

"I had some things to take care of at The Manor."

I had forgotten that since his parents were gone, Malfoy Manor was rightfully his. The thought of him having to spend time in that lonely old place made my chest constrict in pain.

I only thing I could say was, "Oh."

I let my eyes roam over his person; besides looking thinner, his face looked gaunt, and hollow, a hint of dark circles beneath his eyes. I didn't blame him, I wouldn't look any better if I had been in his position.

I didn't know what to say -I could almost hear Ron laughing in my head if he heard me utter that phrase. Draco's abrupt embrace came to mind, and unbidden, the words almost let my mouth but he beat me to it.

"Could you... could you forget about what happened?" His voice was scratchy, as if he were holding back what he wanted to say. He ran a hand through his mop of silvery hair; something he did when frustrated.

I tried to ignore the dull pain that throbbed in a place close to my heart and I nodded, turning around so he couldn't see me. I refused to let him know that he had hurt me.

"I'll have something ready in a little bit," Although I didn't tell him to leave me by myself, he understood the unspoken words.

"I'm sorry, Granger," I could hear the sigh in his voice.

What happened to "Hermione"?

* * *

A/N: Please, please, review, I want to know what you guys think :T


	6. Part VI

_**Part**** IV**_

For a while now, Ginny's had this idea that the four of us – me, her, Harry and Ron—should go out for drinks with a few of our other ex-classmates. While I was guilty of putting this off for some time, I had this nagging feeling that it would be good for me if I went.

So I rang up Harry's place, and it was three rings before Ginny picked up, her voice sounding decidedly cheerful over the telephone line. She was one of the rare Weasley's that had picked up quickly that you didn't have to yell to be heard over a telephone.

"Hello? Oh, Hermione! How are things?"

Getting through the usual formalities, I twirled the off-white cord around my pointer finger while I explained my proposition to her. There was a short pause before she responded, and I could hear the surprise clear in her voice.

"Really? Yeah, I think that'd be great. I'll let the boys know –maybe ask Seamus and Neville along, yeah," I let Ginny go on about how nice it would be to go out with everyone again, and oh maybe Luna could come too. I smiled; maybe this actually would be good for me.

"Oh, and Hermione?" I blinked a bit at the sudden turn in Ginny's mood –she sounded a tad bit grave.

"Is Malfoy coming along as well?" I could imagine the expression that would be marring Ginny's face had we been in the same room –furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. I had to hold back a sigh. Although she was generally less prejudiced about it, Ginny didn't approve of whatever was going on between him and I.

"No, Ginny, he won't be. It'll be just us, and whoever you decide to bring along."

"Alright then, I'll let them know." She seemed to be curious, but didn't press any further, and I hung up. Leaning back on the chair I was plopped down on, I let that earlier sigh escape as the events of yesterday played through my mind akin to a motion picture.

Maybe taking a break from Draco would be good for me as well.

* * *

After putting the finishing touches on what I hoped was a fairly presentable hairstyle, I leaned over the old, polished wooden dresser and dabbed on some mascara and eyeliner. Maybe it was a bit foolish of me to go the extra mile like this just for grabbing a few drinks, but I wanted to do it nevertheless.

Giving my hair once last glance in the mirror, I pulled on a coat before striding over to the den, and made sure to lock the front door, and used my wand to place in some wards for good measure, ignoring the tightness in my chest.

Redundantly closing my eyes, I let my body reunite with the whoosh of apparition and in a split second, I was standing on the cobble-stoned streets of Hogsmeade, with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes bustling around me. One witch –a tall woman with a crooked nose (the embodiment of the muggle idea of witches) bumped into me, and shot me a dirty look from under her feathery hat.

Muttering an apology, I meandered along the streets for a while before arriving at my destination, and smiled at the familiar sight of The Three Broomsticks. The sound of happy chatter drifted from within the building, and warmth blossomed in my chest at the thought of draining a good drink.

Pushing past the creaky wooden doors, the smile on my face stretched into a full grin on seeing my friends, all of them at one inky table, seated on three-legged wooden stools. Ginny was the first to catch my gaze and she grinned brightly, waving over at me from where she was seated beside Harry.

The air inside the inn was warm and stuffy and I took off my coat as I walked over, casting a simple shrinking spell on it and shoving it inside my purse. I plunked down on an empty stool between Ginny and Ron and cast my friends a cheery smile; just seeing everyone had brightened up my mood. Ginny had gotten Seamus, Dean, Luna and Neville to come, and Neville shot me a gentle smile.

"We ordered before you got here, you don't mind, right Hermione?"

I shook my head "no" and as if on cue, Madam Rosmerta arrived, her pink lips beaming at us as she levitated over pewter tankards of frothing butterbeer onto our table, a glass of firewhisky in the mix.

When no one else made a move to grab the firewhisky, I reached out for the tall glass and wrapped my fingers around it. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Harry smiling a little bit too innocently, and resisted the urge to giggle girlishly. I guess I had him to thank for that; Merlin knew I needed the drink.

I raised my glass along with everyone, and the sound of glass tinkling resonated throughout the comfortable inn; mingling with the echoes of laughter.

We all smiled.

"Here's to friendship."

As I let all thoughts of a certain blonde man out of my mind with that first fiery sip of my drink, I felt incredibly glad that I had come.

* * *

Sorry about any typos, I'm posting this from my phone . This chapter was a bitch to write because of the absence of Draco to balance things out. I hope it wasn't a complete bore :/ Sorry ._. Wrote this entire chapter rotating between six Galaxie 500 songs, I love them 3

That being said, please please please review, I want to know your thoughts.

-Alistair


	7. Part VII

This update was long overdue ^^" Enjoy! Well, hopefully xD

* * *

_**Part VII**_

My glass of firewhisky was half-empty by the time I noticed that Neville's and Luna's hands were intertwined. She had her usual dreamy expression plastered to her face, saying something about humdingers hovering around Ginny, and Neville's hand was resting atop one of hers on the table. I smiled against the brim of my glass; after the final battle, it had only been a matter of time until they got together.

Most everyone had thought to settle down, and while the sentiment seemed nice, I couldn't really think of anyone with whom I'd want to make a commitment, except for the very man whom I was currently –and very ironically—avoiding.

"How's your teaching going, Neville?" I found myself asking. Neville taught at Hogwarts now –Herbology of course, and in my opinion, was bound to be admired by the students.

He smiled. "It's going rather well. I admit there are times when I'm intimidated by everything, but it's quite enjoyable."

"Those Slytherins giving you trouble?" Dean laughed, only half-jokingly, and I felt rather than saw the momentary frown Harry sent in his direction. I swallowed back the sigh that rose in my throat and fought to keep my expression as normal as possible. I guess it was too much to hope that my mind would be completely off Draco.

"They're actually pretty okay," Neville mused quietly. "Now that the purebloods' prejudice has lessened considerably, everything is working out well."

"Speaking of Slytherins," Ron's tone turned to that of surprise and vague incredulity as he nodded his ginger head towards the doorway. I followed his gesture, ashamed at myself for expecting to see that familiar mop of silvery hair, but instead meeting with Pansy Parkinson's gaze. Something like aloofness glimmered in her eyes when she nodded coolly at us, and claimed her table.

"I suppose Neville's right," Seamus chuckled. "If it were Hogwarts years, she would have run her mouth at us."

I finished my drink, and we passed the evening away chatting until it was time to leave. Harry, Ron, Ginny and I waved goodbye to the others before apparating to the apartment Harry and Ginny shared –it was decided that we were to stay for dinner.

I liked dropping by their place –the apartment was warm and cozy and Ginny was a great cook, taking after her mother. She left to the kitchen and I sank down on their plush couch and kicked off my heels, wondering why I had even worn the blasted things. The couch sagged a little with our weight as Harry plopped down beside me, and Ron fiddled with the telly.

"Alright, 'Mione? Hope the firewhisky kicked in." Harry grinned crookedly.

"I needed that," I admitted, rather sheepishly. It was good to spend some time with everyone, and some time away from Draco as well.

His expression grew serious, and I knew that beneath his glasses, his green eyes would be clouded over with thought.

"How are you, _really_?"

The thought of just shrugging it off occurred to me, but I didn't want to lie to Harry.

"Confused."

He frowned; that didn't seem to be the answer he had been expecting.

"Malfoy?" Although he had phrased it that way, I had a feeling that it was more a statement than a question. I smiled weakly.

"I'll take that as a rhetorical question."

Harry sighed, leaning back against the couch. He ran a hand through his messy hair, the action only causing it to stick up even more.

"I would tell you to stay away from him, that it would be for your own good, but I already know (from past experience) that you won't listen." I couldn't stop a smile from forming on my lips at that.

"Malfoy, he- he's complicated. I admit that he's changed for the better now but 'Mione, he's… damaged, for lack of a better word. His family is gone, he himself crushed his pureblood ideals when he helped us, and I think he simply doesn't know what to believe in now. He's probably just as confused as you."

I exhaled slowly, letting his words sink in. It was then that it struck me that I hadn't considered how Draco was feeling. This was all new to him –he probably didn't know how to act and I had been too wrapped up in my own feelings to notice.I had also misread Harry; he had not let his old resentment for Draco cloud his judgment now, like I used to think he would.

"I… care about him, Harry. It might not exactly be good for me, but I do," I couldn't bring myself to say anything past that. "He's just impossible to understand at times."

"Give him time, Hermione. If he cares, he'll come-," he cut himself short, and let out a small bark of laughter.

"Merlin, never would have thought I'd be giving you advice concerning Malfoy of all people. For the smartest witch of our age, you certainly have poor taste in men," he teased, and I threw a pillow at his laughing face.

"Isn't that the truth," Ron whistled, finally deciding on what he wanted to watch. "There was Krum, and remember McLaggen, that insufferable g-,"

I launched a cushion at his face before he could finish his statement, and Harry tried to stifle his laughter in vain as a red-faced Ron glared at me.

"Oi!" Ginny's head poked in from the kitchen. "What are you doing with my cushions?"

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review, I'd love to know what you guys think c:


	8. Part VIII

Happy New Year, everyone c: I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please excuse if there are any mistakes, this chapter was really hard to post through phone.

**_Part VIII_**

Although I felt like I understood Draco a little more now, it did not make me seek him out. Quite the contrary, actually. I continued to keep well out of his way, partly in hope that he would come to me when he was ready, and partly because I didn't know if I was ready.

This morning, I had no clue that our next meeting would be instigated through a newspaper but when I was enjoying some of Florean Fortescue's ice-cream after work with the Daily Prophet, it became perfectly clear that that was to be the case.

Page eight had a picture of him, adorned in stark black dress robes, making his pallid complexion stand out even more. I frowned; he was in a lobby of some sorts, very high end judging by the furniture. As every photograph in the Wizarding World, this one was moving and his eyes bore straight into mine, expression quizzical. He turned politely towards the camera, but I knew Draco, and that tightness at the corners of his mouth meant he was not pleased at all.

It all clicked in when my eyes caught the title of the column on the top left corner of the page. I had to blink a few times to clear my vision and re-read the title a few times: "Me, Myself and I" in bold lettering with a picture of a winking Rita Skeeter. What on earth was Draco doing giving that cow an interview?

_"I've had myself the pleasure of bumping into the head of the Malfoy family today, who has kindly offered to answer some burning questions, which readers of_ Me, Myself and I _will no doubt be excited to hear."_ She had probably been more persistent than her usual self to get Draco to crack. I let out a snort at mental images arising of an oversized blonde moth hovering around an annoyed Draco.

The interview went onto mention how Draco was now the sole owner of Everything Malfoy, and how things were being managed_ – "Mr. Malfoy remarked that he is keen about upholding the family name… The late Lucius Malfoy's board of directors trusted with handling..._ _Mr. Malfoy himself is overseeing_…" I quickly skipped through these parts, until happening upon an instance where Skeeter brought up purebloods.

_"The Malfoy family has continually been known for preserving its pureblood lineage and we find it only fair to query Mr. Malfoy on how the untimely passing of his parents has affected him in long term matters of the future."_ Of course she would bring up his parents; I could almost imagine the look that must have been on Draco's face when she'd said that.

_"The young gentleman remained tight-lipped about courtship with anyone but seemed to be fairly ambiguous when questioned upon rumors of an attachment to one Miss. Astoria Greengrass; a friend of the family. Are we to be expecting an addition to the Malfoy family in the near future?"_

The article went on for a few more paragraphs, but I was more preoccupied with the news of Draco's apparent connection with Astoria to read any further. He had not mentioned a word of this to me, and I had to keep in mind that it was Rita Skeeter who had penned this; she was not known for being entirely dependable, and that was putting it lightly. Maybe she had fabricated this. The reasonable thing to do was wait till Draco explained. If he would, that is.

However, I couldn't suppress the dull sense of betrayal that was starting to creep up along my veins. What if Rita Skeeter was right and Draco did have some sort of association with Greengrass? If so, why had he not said anything to me? She had gone to Hogwarts as well…perhaps they'd had some rapport between them since then.

If that was to be the case, what did it mean for the two of us? I couldn't help but arrive to the conclusion that whatever had happened between us must only have been a misinterpretation on my part. The thought made a rather large lump form in my throat.

My eyes flitted to the picture of Draco, where he was staring dispassionately at his surroundings. I gazed at him for so long that it surprised me that I hadn't bored holes into the paper, but still I couldn't even begin to understand what the man was thinking. Nothing he did remotely fit into the idea of logic. One minute, he acted as if he felt something for me, and the next, he was leaving me in the dark.

The weight of everything that had happened so far, coupled with this, was starting to give me a headache, and the earlier betrayal had now morphed into exasperation. Harry and Ron had been right, to some extent –although Draco had changed into a better person, he was much too perplexing to be understood and associated with. All I was doing was getting in too deep.

Letting out a sigh, I grabbed my things, shoving the now crumpled copy of the newspaper into my bag, and apparated back home, ignoring the hollow feeling in my chest upon being greeted by an empty apartment.

I grabbed a book, and some scented bath salts, thinking perhaps a good, long soak in the tub would help take my mind off that vexing blonde man.

Half an hour later, I realized I should have known better than to believe that.

* * *

Reviews are loved, please, please leave a thought c:


	9. Part IX

_**Part IX**_

New people, wrecked friendships, and one break up later, here I am. So sorry for the delay, I have no excuses. Thank you for all the support for this shitty story of mine so far 3 I love you all.

* * *

After almost a fortnight of not seeing him, it was rather easy to pick out the changes in Draco's appearance. He had a bit of stubble marring his chin which wouldn't have stood out on a person like Ron, but Draco was always clean shaven. That, and he seemed to have lost another couple of pounds, or he was wearing too much black.

I shifted the groceries I was carrying onto my other arm. He was standing in front of my building, hands resting inside his pockets, looking up at the haggard establishment. All sharp angles and frowns.

Not knowing what to make of this, or the growing trepidation inside my chest, I cleared my throat. The sound was loud, carrying across the deserted streets and his gaze snapped to face me. The evening sun was fast receding and the light played with his flaxen hair.

My feet seemed to have forgotten how to walk as I tottered towards him. My first instinct was to pull him into an embrace and ask him how he was, but seeing how asinine that was, I settled for a simple hello. Words unspoken.

"You've put in new wards," he commented, nodding towards me, but he could have countered my protective spells if he wanted to.

"Security spell," I murmured. "Are you coming in?" I didn't dare look at his face when I said this; instead I focused on lifting the protective spell. He did not answer, but I heard the shuffling of his footsteps as he followed, and shut the door behind us.

I strode into my little kitchenette and set about removing the things I purchased from the bags. I didn't know how to go about speaking to him, or what to even say, considering what had transpired the last time he was here.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking of fixing something, maybe roast, I'm not sure yet," the words were flowing out of my mouth before I could stop them. I wasn't asking him the things I actually wanted to know –about Skeeter's article, Astoria, and why he looked so gaunt.

"Granger-," he started to say, and perhaps I would have seen the weariness on his face if I could have mustered the courage to look.

"Mrs. Weasley gave me this recipe, perhaps that," I opened a cupboard and rummaged through the pans, trying to find one big enough. Anything to distract myself.

"Granger-," he spoke again.

"It might not taste as good as hers though, but I might as well try any-,"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he grasped both my arms, and turned me around to face him. I let my gaze slide towards the wall behind him.

"Look at me," the actual words were commanding, but the way he uttered them was not. He just sounded tired. I did not comply.

His grasp loosened, and his hands slid down to my wrists. I could feel the fingers shaking. His guard was down completely, and for the first time since I had known him, I wasn't happy about it.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Ah, there it was. Hermione. I would have laughed if the situation was different.

"I should be asking you that," I answered quietly. "You look exhausted."

I could hear the amusement in his voice –not obvious, but still there. "How would you know that when you aren't even looking at me?"

I tried to pull away, murmuring an excuse that I had to get dinner started, but he wouldn't have that.

I felt him sigh as he shifted. The familiar scent of cologne mixed with fabric softener pervaded my nostrils.

"Listen, I know I haven't been here for a while. It's just that I've had a lot of matters to attend to, with what-,"

I didn't know what made me do it, but I met his gaze. "You don't have to explain yourself to me," the words came out sharper than I had intended them to. It it was fascinating to see how his expression changed –apologetic, shocked, and then indignant.

His tone was cross. "I was trying to apologize."

"For what?" I found myself firing back, pulling away from him now that he had let go of me. It was as if everything that had been eating at me was escaping.

"For not being here? You don't have to apologize. After all, I'm just a convenience, aren't I? Here until you get bored of me, or you find someone else. Which I suppose you have now."

It felt like I wasn't the one speaking –like I was having an out-of-body experience and was watching someone who looked like me say it. This Hermione didn't look angry at all. In fact, she looked rather calm, and resigned.

"Granger, what-," his eyes were wide, and he looked more confused than I had ever seen him before.

"Let me finish. I don't understand you, Malfoy. You drag me this way and that until I don't even know where I stand in your life anymore, or if I even have a place in it. And imagine my surprise when I read that article by that blasted Skeeter woman. You didn't tell me a word about Astoria. You never tell me _anything_. What am I, Draco? To you? What am I?"

It all came out in a rush, and a second after I said it, it felt good to let everything out. But as time ticked by, and Draco was still staring at me, alarmed, the regret started to blossom.

"Well?" I persisted, afraid of what he would say, but I would have it out, and I would have it out now.

Draco looked like a deer in headlights, and at any other time, it might have been funny. His eyes had grown wider, and he was at a loss for words. One of his hands flew to his hair, and raked through his platinum locks, and I half-expected some of it to come off the way he was tugging at it.

"I...well…of course you aren't a bloody convenience," he paused, biting his bottom lip. "I do care about you. Obviously. But-,"

If the beginning of his statement had given me any hope, it flickered out at the end.

"But?"

He edged closer to me once more, and his hands lifted, but he must have thought twice about it, because they fell to his sides once again.

"But I don't know. Look at me Hermione, I'm a mess," his voice sounded strained and throaty, quite unlike him. I knew that at any other time, he would never say something like this, and expression on his face was shattering. Lost. Guilt rose up inside of me –he _had_ grown thinner, and looked more worn that I had ever seen him.

"And now, look at yourself," his voice broke off into a high little laugh at the end of the sentence. "You're everything I could never be, and look what I've already done to you."

I could feel a lump rising steadily in my throat and my vision getting misty. It was all I could do not to wrap my arms around him, as if the act would piece him back together. I had only been thinking about myself, and meanwhile, Draco, my Draco –no, of course he could never be mine—was breaking.

He was unraveling, like me. He had started now, and he wouldn't stop.

"I've been hurting you, I know, and I'm sorry. I thought me staying away would help, but it seems like I'm the one who keeps coming back," that laugh again. I didn't like it. It sounded wrong.

"Draco-,"

He pressed a finger to my lips. "Let me finish or I don't know when I'll have bloody courage to get this out again. No wonder I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor."

"Look at yourself," that again. "You're brilliant, Hermione. Bloody wonderful. You deserve more than me," a slight smile here. I let my fingers clutch the hem of my shirt, the alternative being digging them into my palms.

I opened my mouth to retort, but I couldn't form my jumble of thoughts into coherent sentences. I knew what he was saying without him having to say it—_"I can't be who you want me to."_

Hesitating a second, he moved closer, and planted his lips to the top of my forehead. They were cold, and a bit chapped, but soft. I could feel my heart thudding painfully in my chest; I had waited so long for him to do that, but had never imagined it would turn out like this.

"So this is it?" I breathed out. Was it all ending, just like that? Was there anything to end in the first place?

"I'm sorry, Hermione –damn it all, I've been saying that too much." He pulled away, and I found myself already missing him, despite the fact that he was still standing across from me.

I heard the shuffling of his cloak as he pulled his wand out –he was going to apparate. He was going to leave.

"I'll be seeing you," a rueful smile.

It wasn't until he was gone, and I had sunk to my knees that I said what I should have said to him–_"but I need you."_

* * *

I honestly have no bloody idea what this is. I'm so sorry if it sucks, which it does. Immensely. I'll shut up now. Also, ya'll should listen to Slide Away by Oasis –it's the song I listened to while writing the end of this chapter. Hopefully, it wasn't /too/ OOC. I've edited a few times, but excuse any lingering mistakes. Um, review? ^^"


	10. Part X

_**Part X**_

_**One month later**_

Old Hogwarts habits resurfacing, I drowned myself in books. Whenever Flourish and Blotts didn't have many customers, I'd bury my nose in a book. Fiction, non-fiction, biographies, even Rita Skeeter. I didn't care, as long as it kept me occupied. As long as it kept me from thinking.

Home was a different today. There, I didn't have the comfort of knowing people were around; of this strange sense of companionship. At home, I couldn't focus on the quiet chatter of my co-workers, and for once in my life, reading Hogwarts; A History for the thousandth time didn't help.

The quiet in my flat bothered me like it never had before. I kept expecting to hear the sound of soft footsteps, and Draco's constant absense weighed down on me that sometimes, it was hard to breathe. It was frightening how used I'd gotten to his presence.

A month with no word, and I was still hung up.

It made me angry. It set me on edge that after everything, he had just left. I was angry at myself for being angry. I should have expected that Draco was the sort of person that would run at the first sign of danger; of getting in too deep.

Most of all, it made me angry that I was still expecting him to come back.

But if anything, Draco had his pride. A part of me knew that he wouldn't try to come around after that declaration.

I was a mix of emotions, all of it clashing together and welling up into something strange inside my chest. I kept up with the Daily Prophet, and sometimes, there would be a small section on the Malfoys. Astoria was always mentioned.

But I had my pride too. As much as I wanted to reach out, and mend whatever gap we'd bridged between us, I also didn't want to do it at the same time. I didn't want to be the only person fighting for us -whatever us even was.

I wouldn't go running back to him.

So I kept working, and I kept living my life, as if there wasn't a part of me that was hollow. My friends noticed, that I was sure of. I didn't miss the questioning glances that sparked between Harry and Ron whenever I wanted to spend more time with them, instead of being holed up in my apartment of Draco was there.

They didn't question it, that I was glad of.

Ginny was the one who brought up the question. The question of whether I was seeing someone. She said it quietly, and with a meaningful glint in her warm eyes. I told her no; no, I wasn't seeing someone.

She suggested I went on a double date with her and Harry, and another bloke from her quidditch team. You'll like him, Ginny said. I wasn't exactly sure, considering I heard enough of quidditch from people already in my life.

I pretended that it wasn't because I had another former seeker on my mind. And I didn't mean Harry.

I put the idea off for several days, until it came to the point where the silence in my flat became so unbearable that I had to dig out old records that belonged to my dad, and play them on a never ending loop.

Perhaps it would be good for me to get out. There wasn't anything keeping me from seeking out another man, except my owl delusions. I was twenty-two years old, and I was supposed to have my whole life ahead of me as everybody said.

Right. That was why I was working at Flourish and Blotts instead of doing great things with my life, like I'd imagined. I think it was the realization that I could do more, that I deserved more that made me ring up Ginny, and accept her offer.

She sounded pleasantly surprised. She told me that she was so glad I'd accepted, and that his name was Jeremiah, and that he was handsome. Quiet, she said. A bit shy.

I listened to her go on about the boy I was going to be seeing while in my head, I was replaying late night drinks and half-conversations with another boy entirely.

* * *

_Ugh. I've finally updated. Really hope this chapter was to your liking, although I'm not too sure about it. Oh well. Leave a thought?_


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